by Pirateaba
“It’s all connected. Look, one of the principle of martial arts is connectedness. Every part of the body works together. Your arms aren’t one separate thing. That’s why when you punch, your entire body, from your arms to your legs go into one motion. That’s why you take a stance and move the same way. It’s the most effective.”
“Is that why you had me do jumping jacks?”
“That’s part of the warm up, yes. So is swinging your arms, rolling your hips, and everything else. You need to be flexible. That’s what these exercises will help you do as well—build muscle so you can move freely.”
“I don’t see why. My arms are already strong. Isn’t that enough if I’m punching someone?”
Garia’s cheeks were red as Ryoka walked her through more exercises, making her learn how to do knee lifts to the elbow, and then hiza-geri, a form of knee striking from Shotokan Karate. She clearly didn’t want Fals to see her doing this silly routine, for all he was doing it with the two girls and Mrsha was too.
“Punching someone isn’t enough, Garia. Strength isn’t enough, although it’s pretty damn important. But martial arts practices defense, movement—it’s a way of living. It’s…a way to be graceful. Grace.”
Ryoka stared ahead until she realized she’d stopped doing knee strikes. She made Garia do twenty until the girl complained her legs were getting tired.
“And I have to do this every day?”
“If you want to get good, yes.”
Ryoka snapped, growing impatient with Garia. She was trying to help, but Garia seemed determined not to get through even the basic forms! She was trying to help—
“Why don’t you show us what a master looks like, Ryoka? I’m sure you see how all this matters, but I’m like Garia. It feels silly to do all this. What does it look like once you keep practicing for a while?”
Fals spoke up and Ryoka blinked at him. She opened her mouth to tell him it wasn’t one kind of thing—and then realized he was right.
Mrsha had grown bored of watching Ryoka practice with Garia. She’d started playing in the snow. Garia’s parents had a hot drink and were smiling and Garia looked fed up. Ivolethe was laughing at Ryoka, and Fals had his eyebrows raised.
They didn’t know what martial arts looked like. Perhaps no one in this world did. Ryoka nodded.
“You’re right, Fals. Let me show you what it looks like, Garia, everyone. Mrsha, get back. Ivolethe, you can stay right there for all I care. I’ll show you…what training your body can do.”
Ryoka took a few steps away from Garia and cleared some snow off of the ground. There was grass underfoot. Not ideal—Ryoka would have liked a firmer surface, but it would have to do.
Garia sat back with Fals, blushing at him and watching Ryoka with a bit of interest. Ryoka smiled to herself. There was something familiar about this moment. Hadn’t she done this once? Oh yes. When her leg had been healed. When she’d been able to move again.
It was the same. Ryoka took a breath, and then ran forwards. She jumped, and then did a handspring into the air. Her audience gasped, but that was only a warm-up. Ryoka landed, twisted, and back flipped up and over, landing on a patch of snow to silence, and then cheering.
“What was that? How did you do that?”
Garia nearly tripped over her own feet, running over to Ryoka. She stared in amazement at the girl, but Ryoka put up a hand.
“I’m just getting started. Watch out—”
She did a standing front flip, which was easy, but again, totally astounded everyone watching. Mrsha ran over to Ryoka, screaming in inaudible excitement. Fals stared at his feet and hopped experimentally as if to try.
The Humans and Gnoll watched as Ryoka did another backflip, this time with a run up. Ryoka cursed as she nearly slipped on landing. The snow was not the place for tricks. But her audience didn’t care. They had never seen someone move like Ryoka could.
The next thing Ryoka tried was a standing cork, or standing corkscrew. It involved her standing with her left leg raised slightly off the ground and behind her right leg, which was slightly bent. Then, Ryoka jumped up and her entire body twisted around and up, sending her spinning up and around. It wasn’t like a front flip at all. In fact, it was so fast that Garia and the others couldn’t even tell what Ryoka had done.
It was a move from a martial art devoted just to tricks. Appropriately, it was called Tricking, a way of doing flashy moves like you’d see in movies. Naturally, Ryoka had learned how to do several tricks, and this one, a standing cork seemed to defy the laws of gravity for those watching it for the first time.
In slow motion, it would look as if Ryoka’s leg came up, propelling her into the air, and then her body curled and twisted several times before her foot came down, landing her on the ground. Ryoka did this again for her stunned audience—
And wiped out.
Spectacularly, as it happened. Ryoka messed up the landing and slipped on some snow and hit the ground hard. She was up in a second to reassure Mrsha, but she’d hit herself hard enough to bruise.
That actually helped, because after seeing her flub so badly, the watchers were even more convinced Ryoka was insane as she did several more tricks. Determined to make up for that hilarious failure, Ryoka did a spinning aerial kick that hit Ivolethe as the faerie flew a good six feet up in the air. The faerie went flying, screaming insults, more surprised than hurt.
“How are you doing that?”
“Practice!”
Ryoka laughed as she did a series of tricks, spinning and kicking into the air, flipping around—flying. Tricking. It wasn’t a formal martial art. Or rather, it wasn’t a type of martial arts that applied to fighting or self-defense. It was more like a sport, an activity, an exhibition of what the human body could do.
There were very few situations that required Ryoka to jump into the air, spin, land on one leg, flip herself forward and then kick, but that wasn’t the point.
It was a performance. Ryoka did a running flip off of a handstand in the snow, jumped up, kicked at a target twice her height in the air and landed. She nearly slipped and fell in the snow, but then she was laughing, hearing Garia and Fals shout in amazement.
“See? This is martial arts! This is what you can do if you practice!”
Next, Ryoka showed the group some more practical moves, doing the roundhouse kick she loved so much, punching, blocking, moving to avoid and counter invisible enemies. It wasn’t as showy as Tricking, but it was just as amazing to the people watching.
Because they had never seen this either. Warriors with swords were one thing, but this was different. This was martial arts, which emphasized moves that had no wasted movement, that could be performed because the user had practiced them again and again.
No one in this world did flips. What would be the point? Oh, maybe a [Tumbler] could do it, or an [Acrobat] if they even existed. But no one in this world had had the time to practice, to do a backflip. Because there was no point! No point, which is why there weren’t people doing acrobatic tricks in ancient Rome, at least, as far as Ryoka knew.
There was no necessity to anything Ryoka did. No reason to do it, except because it was amazing and wonderful and inspiring.
And fun.
And as Ryoka ran and did a handspring into the air, she felt alive. She’d forgotten, somewhere, what it was like to just move for the sake of moving. The wind was blowing through her hair. She felt like she was flying, just like the first time she’d ever pulled one of these tricks off.
It felt as though at any moment, as you were flying upwards, the world twisting around you, that you could just soar into the heavens, that your body could carry you upwards without limit. Ryoka leapt, and saw something in the air.
A flash of movement. She saw the wind. She saw it twist around her—
“Ryoka!”
Garia cried out and Ryoka found herself flipping over and over, upwards and up. And then down. She shouted, lost control—
And fell.
It was a long way down. When Ryoka woke up with Mrsha covering her face, Garia told her Ryoka had gone for a gainer, a backflip off of one foot. She’d leapt into the air, and then, somehow, kept flipping upwards. She ended up flying ten feet into the air before falling. Ryoka had successfully done a quadruple gainer, a feat never performed in the history of human kind as something—the wind—had carried her up.
Unfortunately, she’d missed the landing. Panicked, confused by what had happened, Ryoka had landed the most impressive face-plant in the snow, again, perhaps the most impressive one ever seen. She’d knocked herself out as everyone had gone running over.
When she’d heard all of this and gotten Mrsha off her, Ryoka sat up, looked for Ivolethe, and tried to kill her friend.
“What the hell was that for? Was that payback for kicking you? Because if it was—”
“It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!”
Ivolethe shouted as she flew away from Ryoka. The girl stopped, glaring at Ivolethe and swaying on her feet.
“What the hell do you mean? It was you! I saw it! You used the wind—”
“Not me, you fool! I did nothing!”
“What?”
Ryoka stared at her. She realized what Ivolethe was saying and paled.
“But then I—”
The Frost Faerie grinned at Ryoka. The girl froze, staring at her, at the clear blue sky.
“But that’s impossible. I was showing off. I wasn’t trying to—”
Ivolethe floated up, smiling broadly. She tapped Ryoka in the chest, grinning and shaking her head.
“Showing off? That was the best time for it! You didn’t try. In that moment, ye were Ryoka at your most natural. You did not feel. You saw. And the wind saw you.”
“I did it?”
Ryoka stared at Ivolethe. She stared around, at where Fals was gingerly trying to do a handstand, at Garia, who was determinedly punching the air and Mrsha, doing flips as Wailant tossed her up and Viceria watched with a wand at the ready, just in case.
Then she looked at Ivolethe. To her surprise, there were tears in the faerie’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
The small Frost Faerie shook her head.
“Ah. I did not know. I did not know what else Humans came up with. I lived with a body like yours for years, but this?”
She did a corkscrew in the air, flipping over, a perfect copy of the move Ryoka had done. Ivolethe laughed.
“This! This is new. This is something else. And for this, Ryoka Griffin, I thank you. For showing me something I have never seen.”
She landed on the ground, and took a few steps. Ivolethe kicked up into the air and back flipped up past Ryoka, into the sky. Her laughter was all Ryoka heard. It filled the world as Ivolethe flipped upwards, not flying, but borne by the wind. Ryoka stared as the faerie flew and whispered one word.
“Grace.”
1.02 D
It was a hot, humid day when Quallet Marshhand walked into the recruiting grounds and claimed the half-rotted booth he’d bought for the day. It was always a hot day in Baleros. At least the winter kept the worst edge of the heat off, but Quallet had gotten used to feeling sweat run down his face long ago.
The booth Quallet had bought for five silver pieces wasn’t worth half a copper one, in his opinion. The humid weather had already rotted half of the woodwork, and he was sure that if he put his axe or helmet on the booth, it would collapse. And scrabbling around in the dirt for his gear wouldn’t do him any favors, especially when he was on a tight schedule.
So Quallet leaned his axe against the booth and kept his helmet on. It was already hot, and at least the helmet added to his presence. He had to compete with the others standing at their respective booths and shouting. It wasn’t like this recruiting ground was particularly large; there were only six or so occupied booths, but the recruiters standing at each one were shouting loud enough for twice their number.
“Any [Mages] are welcome to the Tanglelurk Lights!”
“Roll up and become one of the Virulent Plague! Enlist with a friend and earn double pay for your first month!”
“Join the Raverian Fighters! We’re offering a premium on experienced warriors! Apply now!”
Quallet had to smirk when he heard the last shout. The Raverian Fighters? They must be desperate to be recruiting in the middle of a campaign. Anyone with half a brain would know better than to join that company, especially with how things were going.
Still, mocking the opposition was a pointless endeavor. Quallet was here to recruit, so he drew in a breath and began shouting himself.
“Gravetender’s Fist is accepting new recruits! Join an experienced suppression company and make coin without dying in your first battle!”
Heads turned and instantly, a fair number of the individuals in the recruiting grounds began drifting over in his direction. Quallet let them come, not bothering to redouble his shouting. Instead he stood, arms crossed, waiting.
It was about presence. In Baleros, a company of warriors might live or die based on the efforts of their recruiters. These groups or individuals would go from village to city, sometimes competing against hundreds of other companies to find talent, other times marching through an empty dirt street and shouting by themselves.
It was hard, unrewarding work, and usually given to an unlucky officer or as punishment detail. You’d never see one of the leaders of the Four Great Companies come to this recruiting ground. No, you’d get some unhappy [Sergeant], trying to meet his quota and stay out of the heat.
And that was the mistake most companies made. Because a company was only as good as its recruits, and Quallet had learned long ago that the best recruits were snapped up in an instant. Hence, why he’d come himself.
He was a Level 32 [Mercenary Captain], a seasoned warrior and a powerful leader in his own right. Quallet knew at a glance that he was the highest-leveled individual in the entire recruiting ground, and he had the armor and flash to go along with his Skills.
Thus, the large group of Humans, Lizardfolk, Dullahans and the smaller handful of Centaurs drew closer to see what he was offering. In Baleros, the mercenary companies that fought and bled and died for every petty squabble and major war came in every flavor and kind imaginable. New and experienced soldiers would frequent these grounds, seeking out the best contracts for themselves.
Not that this backwater village had any experienced warriors. It had probably been visited at the start of winter. Now, only unseasoned raw recruits were left, people with no combat classes that probably had never held a sword. Not ideal for company recruiting, but fine with Quallet. Scooping up a hundred such people was his goal today. It would allow him to sell his services in the nearest warzone for quite a bit of gold.
The trick was that he represented a company by himself. As a [Mercenary Captain], Quallet had the Skills to turn the worst fighters into a half-decent force, with him leading them. With a hundred or so fresh recruits, Quallet could advertise his company to the highest bidder at a competitive rate. Just so long as Quallet found a decent pool of people to draw from, and made sure that the best of the bunch weren’t snapped up.
He had an advantage there too. Among the precious Skills that allowed him to lead his company, Quallet had the Skill [Talent Seeker], which allowed him to find the best of any bunch for his company. Assuming the other recruiters didn’t have similar abilities—and it was a good bet this lot were only [Sergeants] and [Soldiers] with few Skills between them—Quallet would walk away with most of his company within the hour.
A decent crowd had gathered—quite a lot of Humans for a village Quallet could have sworn was filled with Lizardfolk. No matter. Him being Human helped in that area as well. He took a breath and spoke at a field roar, making the people closest to him flinch back.
“So you’re in need of coin, eh? Fancy going to war? Running from something, or seeking adventure? You’re in the right place. A [Soldier] lives to fight, and you’ll see plenty of that in Baleros, where the
jungles run red with blood!”
That drew knowing nods from several in the crowd, but the Humans just stared at him. They were an odd bunch, dressed strangely with bright clothing. One had a strange, flat object with a glowing light coming out one end. Some kind of artifact? Quallet pretended not to notice. He went on with his little speech, going through the same motions like he had a thousand times.
“Don’t fancy being a [Soldier]? A [Warrior] will find just as much work, and the best can earn a living as an adventurer. Joining up with a company is the right first step. However, what these other companies don’t tell you is that of every ten raw recruits that enlist, six of them will be dead in the first year!”
That rattled his audience. Quallet looked among them. Yes, a group of young Lizardfolk, scales practically fresh. Dullahans with wood armor, all young, most carrying their heads and peering at him uncertainly. The Centaurs shifted from foot to foot and the Humans—still staring.
The other recruiters in the square were now giving Quallet death-glares from where they stood, but he didn’t care. He spoke the truth and every recruiter knew it. But only Quallet could turn that knowledge into an asset.
“Four in ten odds don’t sound good to you lot, eh? It takes a steady hand and talent to survive your first clash. Fancy yourselves natural-born fighters? You, boy.”
He pointed at a pale-skinned youth wearing some sort of hat. It looked like nothing Quallet had ever seen before. The material was bright and there was some kind of symbol on top. A company’s crest? A red bird sitting on an odd bit of wood stared at him over the word…‘Cardinals’?
Never mind. Quallet stared as the young man looked around and then grinned nervously.
“What, me?”
“Yes, you! Ever been in combat? Ever killed an opponent? You look sturdy enough. Good with a sword, are you?”
The young man stiffened. He hadn’t, Quallet knew, been in any fights to the death before. He didn’t have the look. And he wasn’t armed. Come to that, none of the Humans were. But bravado was one of the key aspects of youth, so the young man with the odd hat grinned as his Human friends laughed.